


A Ballad Hidden / Her Sweet Kiss

by SpiralsInTime



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Boys Kissing, Caring Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Caring Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, Gentle Kissing, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Takes a Bath, Hidden Ballad, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Teasing, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiralsInTime/pseuds/SpiralsInTime
Summary: This is my first time truly writing in about two years, and first fanfic, so by all means, please comment your opinions, I'd greatly appreciate them! Anyway, I hope you enjoy some soft Gerkasier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s), geraskier - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 115





	A Ballad Hidden / Her Sweet Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time truly writing in about two years, and first fanfic, so by all means, please comment your opinions, I'd greatly appreciate them! Anyway, I hope you enjoy some soft Gerkasier.

Humming delightedly to himself, the bard thoughtfully mixed in gentle scenes in the hot water resting calm in the metal bath. Ever since he first started traveling with the Witcher, he had learned many o’ things; one being that Geralt cannot stand strongly scented flowers, that of which Jaskier used to create oils, so he adjusted, experimenting, finding the perfect combination. Jaskier thought back to the first time he experimented with this specific concoction.

Geralt walked in loudly into their tavern’s room for the night, his hair covered in dried blood, hiding the stunning silver-tone Jaskier had ever so fallen for, getting the bard to jump up from his sitting position, putting down his lute. “Oh, you smell of my newest ballad, well, that and--” he waved his hand towards the blood matted Witcher--“the Kikimore warrior guts, but nevertheless.” He scrunched up his nose, earning a grunt from Geralt. He stepped forward before stopping again, the door shut behind the man people saw as a monster, briefly closing his sunlight eyes, inhaling, walking deliberately towards the bard, who stood confused.  
“You made another mixture of wildflower oils.” It wasn’t a question, but Jaskier nodded, cheekily smiling up at his golden-eyed Witcher who was less than an arm's reach out. Geralt inhaled again, slightly leaning into the smaller form in front of him, with an ever so small smile playing at his lips before letting out a pleasant hum, letting Jaskier be aware that he liked it.

The reverberating sound of a heavy wooden door shutting brought Jaskier to reality, causing him to turn to face the Witcher, already picturing what type of guts would be covering him this time. He forced the growing smile off his lips when he remembered he was supposed to be mad at Geralt, quickly falling into that role, pouting out his bottom lip like a child. 

“I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me come with you,” gaining an eye roll from Geralt who was undoing his armor plates that were covered in blue slime-like blood. 

The Witcher grunted, “You can’t handle yourself with sirens you know-” the bard just continued complaining as if Geralt hadn’t spoken up in explanation. 

“What if, by me not writing a detailed ballad of that moment, the legend of Geralt of Rivia, The White Wolf, became no more?” Jaskier dramatically waved his arms around in reason, his blue eyes wide to further his point; though he already knew The White Wolf’s legend would never be forgotten, certainly not by him. 

Geralt rolled his eyes again, nearly almost stripped naked, which quieted the bard quickly. He further undressed, his sweaty body riddled with red-wine scars, and Jaskier averted his gaze, fidgeting with his vials and other oils on the desk, allowing Geralt to freely get into the tub without his gaze watching his movements in respect. Although, of course, the Witcher wouldn’t mind either way, nevertheless Jaskier thought it rude to shamelessly gaze at his naked body that being his feelings only one-sided, no matter how deep the desire to do just so was.

Humming lightly, the bard put some Neroli oil he had extracted from the common Citrus aurantium in his smooth palms, making his way to the small wooden stool sat behind the bath in the ritual Jaskier and Geralt had slowly formed since they have traveled together. The soft scent of oranges and jasmine wafted through the air, enhanced for his witcher scenes, but not overwhelmingly. Jaskier’s calloused fingertips gently untangled and washed through his Witcher’s hair, hearing Geralt softly breath out, basically purring under his loving touch, planting a blossoming smile on the bard’s lips. 

“Are you humming a new ballad?” Geralt inquired curiously, his voice rough and gravely. Jaskier tilted his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowed together before realizing what song he had been humming almost sadly to himself. 

“Ah, no, it’s quite old.”

“But I don’t recall this one, it’s-” Geralt paused thinking for the correct term, but only one could fit. “Sadder than the others. Why don’t I remember it?” 

Jaskier lost in thought didn’t reply for a while, his hands now trembling, remembering back to the night he composed this ballad. Before Geralt tried maneuvering his body to face the bard’s, Jaskier got up, walking in front of the Witcher, still in the bath, but went to fidget with his oils on the desk. “I’ve never sung it to you before,” Jaskier’s voice breathed softly, his back still facing him in the tub, the only reason Geralt heard it at all was for his witcher scenes.

He could feel the stinging in his eyes as it were a cell with monsters clawing and screaming behind them, threatening to let the tears flow like hot boiled water over his cheeks, burning him. Jaskier sniffed, wiping at his eyes with his shaking hands, before turning around with a small sad smile. 

Geralt’s heart felt shot from the expression on his bard’s face, their river blue eyes ready to pop. He immediately felt the need to get up and comfort him but stopped when Jaskier put one of his hands up, inhaling deeply before slowly getting his lute. The Witcher watched painfully, though waited, and as the bard leaned down by the tub, lute in hand, his barely stubbled chin trembled. 

“Jask,” he breathed out gently, “you don’t have to…” Although he meant what he said, the Witcher did want to hear the ballad he hid from him. In fact, Geralt wanted to hear all his ballads; even the ones that never got finished, the ones the bard thought were shit but knew he would’ve loved them all the same.

Jask.

As much as Jaskier adored Geralt’s voice and lips when he formed that pet name, it pained him too, knowing he would never receive his deepest desires. He closes his eyes, sitting vulnerably in front of the Witcher, but not his Witcher, not in the way he wants. Jaskier plucked the strings of the lute as if it were an extra appendage, not needing to see his fingers working against it softly.

Geralt stilled his body, focusing his entire being on the figure in front of him, who started to hum quietly with the only the tune before parting his lips to let the lyrics flow through, the ease of summer breeze. 

The fairer sex, they often call it  
But her love’s as unfair as a crook  
It steals all my reason  
Commits every treason  
Of logic, with naught but a look

The Witcher’s chest ached as he noticed the slight breath Jaskier had to take in before continuing, his eyes still closed, all his soul going into the music like it always had, but this, this was something more. 

But the story is this  
She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss  
Her sweet kiss  
But the story is this  
She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss

Jaskier went back to softly humming the next few lines, knowing he couldn’t voice them with a clear melody. His blue wavering eyes stuck shut, unaware that the Witcher was now leaning in closer to him, his arms still laced with droplets rested on the tub’s edge, entranced with the bard’s voice.

I’m weak my love, and I am wanting  
If this is the path I must trudge  
I welcome my sentence  
Give to you my penance  
Garrotter, jury, and judge

Jaskier’s voice cracked sharply, breaking him from the ability to continue, the stabbing pain rushing over him like waves of the flashback to writing it, that night tears spread across the original paper, the ink danced out eagerly mixing the lyrics together on the paper as if they wanted to be forgotten the same as the moment that inspired their creation. His hands burnt and he no longer could hold back the one cry that croaked from his throat, his lute loosely going to the ground.

He heard the sound of water shifting and then a large warm wet hand gently pushing into his cheek, and he melted his entire body into that single gesture, before opening his pained eyes to be met with the golden-eyed witcher in front of him, gazing at him with a look of profound sadness, guilt, and regret. “I didn’t know my words on that mountain hurt you to that extent…” Geralt glanced away before continuing, “and things with Yennefer.”

Jaskier shook his head, causing Geralt’s hand to go back to the side of the tub. “I don’t-I-It’s not that I don’t want you to be with Yennefer,” he sighed heavily, feeling a crash of selfishness against his soul. “I want you to be happy and I know she makes you happy, but-but-” the bard’s softened voice died off.

“But, what?” The Witcher’s cat eyes were focused on him intensely, nearly begging for him to finish, needing him to. 

“I just sometimes wish you wanted my love as much as I want yours,” he mumbled, wary about him not being able to predict Geralt’s reactions as he does with everything else. Something flicked in the Witcher’s eyes, something Jaskier wasn’t able to entirely read but realized the eyes have looked at him like that before. Moments he skipped around taverns, lute in hand, singing and having the crowd sing his words back, a large smile on his face. Moments after he had said something flirtatious or like a smartass. The moments he woke up beside the Witcher, the first eyes he’d see, always giving him a tired smile.

Geralt took in the bard’s features: his almost nonexistent facial hair lining his curved jawline, the glowing skin, the large smile lines, and his light pink lips that had always looked so soft, teasing and daring him to meet them with his own. However, this time he did, the desire grew to unbearable measures. 

Jaskier let out a soft pleasuring groan as the realization of Geralt’s warm lips pressed against his wet ones from tears settled in. Geralt’s hands were around the bard’s jawline and back of his neck, pulling him closer. He put all his affection and apologies into his kiss, hoping Jaskier knew he was never leaving him as he did on that mountain again. Geralt pulled back gently, one of his hands still resting on the bard’s jawline. “You have always had it,” he muttered, going back to the previous confession Jaskier had made.

The bard looked lost, still stunned by the kiss, his lips slightly parted as he breathed soft warm air through them. Jaskier had to think for a bit, causing a light chuckle from Geralt, being patient. “Wait, your love?” 

“Hmm” he confirmed in his deep voice while starting to mindlessly stroking the bard’s cheeks with his thumb, wiping away past tears that still wettened under his stunning eyes. His cheeks reddened from the confession, leaving an obviously overjoyed smile on his face. Though seconds later, Jaskier smirked and before he could even speak, Geralt knew he was going to say something very ‘Jaskier-like’ 

“Even when you punched me in the crotch in Posada?” Chuckled out Jaskier, gaining him an eye roll from the Witcher, but a small smile played at his lips.

“Okay, obviously not then,” Geralt gently shook his head, before changing topics completely. “Now can I get out of the tub? I’m starting to cramp,” he said, rolling back his large shoulders, multiple loud pops could be heard from the movement.

Jaskier stood up from the stool, moving out of his way, but not before teasing the Witcher, because of course, he can’t just not do that. “Like me to stretch you out?” he added a wink to the suggestion, causing a groan from Geralt. 

“Don’t test me, Jask, I may just say yes.” 

Jaskier flushed a deep red, shuttering out a hot breath from just thinking about it, something Geralt noticed, smirking devilishly at him.


End file.
